


SUPERnatural

by monicawoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Gen, Psychic Abilities, Season/Series 02, Superheroes, Telekinesis, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monicawoe/pseuds/monicawoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saving people, fighting crime...the family business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SUPERnatural

“Come on, just put it on,” Dean said, a hint of impatience in his voice.  
  
“I don’t want to put it on.” Sam held the latex mask in his hands, fingers pushing against the strap that held it over his eyes. He could practically hear Dean rolling his eyes, and barely even knew himself why he kept up the old argument.  
  
“Sam — it’s not optional," Dean said. "It’s important. Staying anonymous is part of the whole crime-fighting super gig. You know that.”  
  
Sam glared up at Dean and waved the latex mask with annoyance. “Really? I don’t see you wearing one!”  
  
“Because I have to wear these.” Dean tapped the frame of his dark glasses. They were tinted with a multi-spectrum coating that made his eyes completely invisible. "I mean, what kind of douche wears sunglasses at night?"  
  
But Sam knew Dean didn't have a choice. His eyes were a powerful weapon, and they seemed to get stronger every year. Some supers were immune, but not all of them. Even Sam had felt their pull once before, just a tiny bit, but enough to know what Dean was capable of.  
  
“Put on the damn mask and let’s go, or do you want to stand here arguing all night?” Dean said.  
  
With a defeated sigh, Sam ducked his head down and put on the mask, tying it on tightly. At least they saw eye to eye on the no-spandex thing. Black thermal shirts and pants worked just as well. Sam straightened and rolled his shoulders back. "Okay, so where to?"  
  
"Let's find out," Dean said. He brought his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply as they started walking down the empty alleyway.  
  
The familiar rumble of the Impala's engine grew louder as the big black car turned around the corner and came to a stop a few feet away.  
  
"Hey, baby," Dean said, tracing his hand over the car's hood as he walked to the driver's side. "Did you have a good night?"  
  
The Impala revved her engine in response, as Sam opened the door on the passenger's side and slid into his seat. "Know where we're going?" he asked.  
  
Dean wrapped his hands around the steering wheel and looked at the GPS display along with Sam. “Twenty miles north, huh?" He smirked at Sam. "Told you he wasn't in the city anymore."  
  
Sam scoffed. "Dude, you're the one who suggested the city!"  
  
"There were two kidnappings here over the last three days!"  
  
"There's always kidnappings here, Dean — it's the city!"  
  
The Impala honked, her way of telling them to shut up, and pulled out of the alleyway slowly, avoiding a big pothole.  
  
"Yeah but these last two were supers. It's him, Sammy, I know it is. The same son of a bitch who killed Mom." He swallowed. “Dad died trying to take him out. We owe it to him to finish this.”  
  
Sam chewed on his lip for a minute while they drove through the city. When they pulled out onto the highway, he said. “How, though? How the hell do we take down somebody like Azazel? You’ve heard what they say about him.”  
  
"Yeah, I have. He has an army. He's got barrels of Hellfire and all his cronies are jacked up on the stuff. I know."  
  
"Why does anyone even take that stuff. It hurts like hell going in."  
  
"Yeah, but who doesn't like having superpowers?" Dean said. "Even if they're temporary — a lot of people don't mind trading a little pain for that."  
  
Sam shrugged. "I still don't even get how it works. It's synthetic RNA."  
  
"I don't know either, but whoever designed it, based it on supers like us," Dean said, "At least we can tell who's on it."  
  
"Turning your eyeballs black is one hell of a side-effect. I guess they do kinda look like demons. That's what the papers have started calling them."  
  
Dean smirked at the term. "Demons. They might be full of Hellfire, but underneath that, they're human. They might not even be immune to me. Or you," he added, throwing Sam a look.  
  
"Me?" Sam scoffed. "My powers barely ever work when I need them to. I nearly got us killed twice." His powers hadn't kicked in until he hit twenty-two, and at first they'd felt like a curse. Sometimes they still did. He had pre-cognitive dreams and later visions, both of them followed by skull-splitting headaches. Problem was, his dreams didn't always give him enough information to go on. One time in Memphis, they showed up hours after the crime they were trying to prevent — just in time to see the criminals speeding away. His other powers were even less helpful: Random bursts of telekinesis when he was scared that had done more harm then good — one time flinging Dean into a wall along with the crooks they were after; Super-strength that had only kicked in after he'd seen both Dean and his Dad get shot. He'd pulled them both out of the rubble easily, lifting a broken wall off of them, but then nearly collapsed after dragging them to the car. He shook his head, the memories bringing old shame flaring back to life. "I shouldn't even be doing this!"  
  
"Then why are you?" Dean asked.  
  
 _Because you're my brother. Because you asked me to,_ Sam thought. "Because it's the right thing to do."  
  
"Bullshit. You and Dad used to argue all the time about what we do. What'd you say to him the night we tracked down the Soul-traders? Oh right,  _Just because you have a superiority complex doesn't mean you're morally superior to everyone else._ " Dean whistled low. "Yeah, that went over well."  
  
“Dean—“  
  
“No, listen — I get it. Even if you were just spouting stuff from your psychology book— I get it. You want to know 'why us?'" Dean tapped his fingertips against the steering wheel.  
  
Sam shrugged. He’d heard it all before.  
  
"We do it because nobody else can, Sam. Nobody wants this job, but we were born into it." He swallowed angrily. "It took Mom from us, and Dad. That's why we're doing this. Because we have to."  
  
They sat in silence for a minute or two, as Sam mulled over what Dean had said. Most of the time, he felt more like an unpaid bounty hunter than anything else. They went after criminals, super-powered or not, and stopped them. The super-villains and demons tended to fight to the death far more often than not. When they survived, Sam and Dean brought them to the Supermax wing of Southern State Penitentiary. Arkham, as Dean liked to call it.  
  
That was main difference between them, Sam thought. Dean enjoyed the superhero ideal. He'd never questioned Dad's orders, because he’d agreed with them. He still did. And no matter how much Sam wished it could be that cut and dry for him too...it wasn't.  
  
They were doing a public service, yeah, but was it really the best use of what they could do? Some of the supers they’d met could do incredible things. Game-changing things.  
  
So could the villains. Yeah — some of the bad guys were evil, plain and simple, but others were just…lost. Sometimes they were trying to make a better life for themselves by taking what wasn’t theirs; sometimes they were fighting back against some slight, real or perceived. That happened most often with newly powered villains. They felt like they’d finally been given the chance to strike back. And they did. But all of them had one thing in common: they weren’t happy with the world the way it was. They wanted to change things. That’s where things started to get muddy for Sam. He didn’t entirely disagree with that idea. When it came right down to it, Sam wanted to make a difference. He didn't want to just put away another criminal or two. He wanted to make the world a better place.  
  
Of course he couldn't explain any of that to Dean without it turning into an argument about Dad. So instead, all Sam said was, “It’s a suicide mission.”  
  
“No, it isn’t. We’re not going after him tonight. This is strictly recon. We find out where he is and what he’s up to, then we head back to the Roadhouse and go from there.”  
  
“The Roadhouse?” Sam raised his eyebrows skeptically. “You seriously think they’re gonna be any help?”  
  
“You think they won’t be? They’re the best chance we’ve got!” Dean said, offended. They’d known Ellen and Jo for a few years now. Jo hadn’t come into her powers yet, but if she took after her mom or her dad, she’d pack a serious wallop. Ellen could bench-press a Mack Truck without breaking a sweat. Plus they had Ash. If anyone could help them figure out how to take down Azazel, they could.  
  
*******  
  
They pulled off three exits later, and the Impala guided them down one road after the other until they got to a stretch of road with nothing but the occasional empty office park, or factory on either side. An old industrial section, fallen into disuse over the last few decades. The Impala shut off the lights and slowed as she pulled them off road, in sight of a long grey building — an abandoned warehouse of some sort.  
  
They'd only taken a few steps towards the building when Sam stopped in his tracks, and tilted his head to the side.  
  
"Spidey-sense kicking in?" Dean asked.  
  
"It's not a Spidey-sense, Dean, it's—" Sam winced and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes scrunching up in pain.  
  
"Sammy?" From the look of it, his brother was either about to have a vision or something equally unpleasant. It was hard to know with Sam — his powers were still new and always in flux. Most supers got their powers in their late teens or early twenties. Sam had been a late-bloomer and they hadn't kicked in until he was twenty-two, but when they had, they'd nearly torn him apart.  
  
Like his Dad, Dean had one primary power — his eyes, and one secondary: his knack with all things mechanical. But Sam...wasn't so easy to quantify. He'd manifested over a dozen different powers, but didn't have full control over any of them. The most consistent one so far seemed to be his precognitive visions. Unfortunately they also came with migraine-level headaches — bad timing for him to get one here. They'd have to pull back for now before they got themselves caught.  
  
Dean moved to Sam's side, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder.  
  
"It's Andy," Sam said, through gritted teeth.  
  
"Andy?"  
  
"He's in trouble. Azazel's got him trapped in there." Sam had met Andy his first year on patrol — back when his only qualification was that he'd had a vision once. Despite Sam's protests, Dad had insisted that going out in the field would help kick start his powers better than anything else. Andy was a telepath, a damn good one too. He could persuade you to do just about anything, and you'd do it with a smile on your face. Andy also had the ability to send images, and what he'd projected to Sam was scary as hell.  
  
Azazel had him in a cage. It was barely tall enough for him to stand in. There were others around him, all of them supers, all of them trapped.  
  
"He's having trouble getting through," Sam said. "The cages Azazel's got them in...they must have built in disruptors or something."  
  
"Them? How many are in there with him?" Dean said, worried. Andy was a good kid. He'd helped Sam accept his gifts more than anyone else had been able to.  
  
"Can't tell. At least a dozen, maybe more?" Sam blinked as his vision came back to normal. "Dean, if they've got this many prisoners..."  
  
"Yeah, I know. Then Azazel's got at least as many of his own in there to guard them." He turned back to the Impala. "Come on, we can make it to the Roadhouse by eleven if we leave now." He took a few more steps, and turned to look over his shoulder when he didn't hear Sam following him.  
  
There was nobody behind him.  
  
"Sam!" he called out in a panic. "Sammy!"  
  
He started running towards the building when the Impala turned on her lights and honked loudly in warning.  
  
There were six people standing in front of him, all of them with solid black eyes — the telltale sign of somebody on Hellfire  
  
Before Dean could move to take off his glasses, someone else grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms together. A voice whispered into his head, self-satisfied and heavy with threat. "Run along, Dean. We'll take good care of Sammy for you."  
  
He could feel the pressure build inside of his brain as the telepath overrode his free will, forcing him to leave. His vision bled yellow, and then faded completely. It wasn't until he was fifty miles away, only a few minutes from the Roadhouse, that he finally came back to himself.  
  
*******  
  
"Take it easy, kid. You did the right thing coming here," Ellen's soft brown eyes were wide with worry as she looked at Dean from across the bar top.  
  
"Baby brought us here. I didn't even know where I was," Dean said, peeking over his shoulder through the window at the Impala. She always parked where she could see him.  
  
"Well then she's a smart car. You can take those off, you know," Ellen added, pointing at his glasses. "Ain't nobody here but us."  
  
Dean had been furious when he’d found himself on the highway — headed away from Sam, away from Azazel, but now his anger had burned out, turned to dread, and settled deep in his stomach. He pulled off his glasses and slipped them into his front jacket pocket. “They’ve got  _Sam_. And I have no idea how to get him out.”  
  
“We’ll figure somethin’ out. Don’t you worry.” She cocked her head to the side. “You hungry?”  
  
Dean’s stomach growled loud and he smiled sheepishly. “Maybe a little.”  
  
Ellen disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes while Dean drank his beer. He turned and looked at the jukebox, suddenly feeling the need for some Led Zeppelin. The jukebox, eager to please Dean like most machines built before he was born, lit up and started playing “Ramble On.”  
  
The door to the kitchen opened, and Dean turned back to it surprised to see Jo, Ellen’s daughter. She was carrying a plate of steak fries that smelled so good Dean's mouth started watering.  
  
Jo set the plate down in front of him and leaned forward, looking into his eyes with open admiration. "Man...they really are something."  
  
Dean's main power didn't work on other supers, which was a relief for many reasons, not the least of them being how much he enjoyed having the glasses off for a bit.  
  
"Shame they're in such an average face."  
  
"You're an...average face." Dean said, mock-offended and way too tired to come up with a witty comeback. He grabbed a fry off the plate and shoved it into his mouth, relishing the taste of potato and salt.  
  
"You fixed the jukebox?" Jo asked, walking over to the old machine.  
  
Dean shrugged. "You're welcome."  
  
"He'll be okay," Jo said, still looking at the jukebox. "Your brother. He's strong. From what Mom told me, he's stronger than most."  
  
"Maybe, but Azazel's got him. And—“  
  
"And we can talk it all through after you have some dinner," Ellen said, walking back in from the kitchen. She was carrying a plate with a burger so tall, Dean wasn't sure he could fit it in his mouth.  
  
"Bon appetit," Ellen said, sliding the plate in front of Dean.  
  
He was halfway through his first bite before he realized he'd forgotten something. "Fank ou," he said, his mouth still half-full.  
  
"Don't mention it," Ellen smiled at him and poured herself a glass of iced tea. She walked out from behind the bar and sat with Jo at one of the larger tables.  
  
Dean picked up his plates and joined them. He wolfed down the food for a few more minutes, and then said, "I need to talk to Ash."  
  
"Yeah, I suppose you do." Ellen looked at Jo. "Can you bring him out here, honey?"  
  
Jo nodded, got up and disappeared out the side door.  
  
"How's he been?" Dean asked. The last time he'd seen Ash had been years ago, before the accident.  
  
Ash had been a traditionalist as far as superhero matters were concerned; he'd always insisted on wearing his full costume —red spandex and what had to be a recycled luchador mask— whenever he was conducting superhero business, even if he was just hacking a network or five. That night he'd made a crack about how Ellen and Jo should get matching costumes, forgetting stupidly about Ellen's enhanced hearing. She threw a table at him from halfway across the room. Dean smiled remembering the look on Ash's face. He'd hidden safely in his room for the better part of the next six hours.  
  
A year later, the Roadhouse was attacked by a gang of villains. Not even the super-powered kind, just thieves with guns. Ash tried to defend the bar's meager earnings, and got himself stabbed in the gut in return. He'd had just enough left in him to drag himself to his laptop.  
  
Jo came back in carrying said laptop. She placed it gently on the table and opened the display, careful not to touch the twisted knot of cables mounted on the exterior. Nobody knew how Ash had done what he’d done, but they didn’t want to accidentally damage anything.  
  
The display was on but blank except for a blinking cursor at the top of the screen. Dean put his fingers on the display and typed,  _Hello?_  He looked over at Ellen. “Can he hear me?”  
  
Ellen nodded her chin at the display.  
  
 _Of course I can hear you, man. I have a microphone._  
  
“Oh,” Dean rolled his shoulders back awkwardly and said, “It’s good to uh…see you, I guess.”  
  
 _You mind getting a man a beer?_  
  
“Uhh…” Dean looked at Jo, completely confused. She stifled a giggle, jogged over to the bar and came back a moment later with a PBR, setting it down in front of the laptop.  
  
 _Thanks darling._  
  
Ellen coughed.  
  
 _Thanks ma'am._  The display flickered, the background shifting from solid black to red and silver — Ash's superhero colors.  _How can I help?_  
  
*******  
  
After telling Ash every detail of Sam's disappearance, Dean felt even more exhausted. Retelling he story had made one thing perfectly clear:  
  
He needed help to save Sam. If one of Azazel's goons was strong enough to mind-sway Dean, then he had no chance against a whole group of them.  
  
"It doesn't make any sense," Dean said. "They mind-whammied me. Just...rolled me under."  
  
"You're right, that doesn't make any sense," Ellen said. "You should have been immune, Hellfire or no."  
  
"Maybe Azazel's stronger now," Dean said. "I couldn't tell which of them was in my head."  
  
 _You sure it was a synth-power?_  
  
Dean cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Last thing I saw was a sea of black eyes."  
  
 _But you said Andy was there, right? He called out to Sam._  
  
"Yeah...son of a bitch. You think Andy did this?" Dean didn't want to believe it, but Andy was one of the few people they knew strong enough to overpower other supers. Even him.  
  
 _Doubt it. Andy's cool._  
  
"Really? How would you know?" Dean was starting to get agitated. If Andy had turned on them, then it could've been him that lured Sam in. His cry for help could have been a trap.  
  
 _We hung out a bunch. Shared some drinks, smokes and other…mind-opening edible things._  
  
"People change," Jo said, sadly.  
  
 _Nah. Not Andy. What you should be asking yourself is: what if they found a new way to synth RNA? What if they copied Andy's?_  
  
Dean took a long sip of his beer, and thought. “That would suck.”  
  
 _That it would, Compadre._  
  
“So what do I do? I have to get Sam out of there.” Dean finished his beer and set it back on the table. His heart ached as his thoughts drifted to his father, and he wondered what he would have done. Dean missed him, every day, but he tried not to think about it too much because it didn’t change anything. Usually, with Sam by his side, it was easy enough to focus on keeping them both alive and safe, but tonight — he wished Dad were still there.  
  
Jo patted Dean on the arm and stood up, her face resolute. “We call for back-up.”  
  
*******  
  
When Sam could open his eyes again, he saw nothing but darkness. He had no idea where he was, but after less than a second of trying to sit up, or move, he realized he was strapped down — to something cold and metallic. His shirt had been removed and there were thick leather straps across his chest, wrists and ankles. He tried to turn his head, but it was strapped down as well — a band spanning his forehead and another across his chin.  
  
He heard a click, followed by a buzzing sound and then the ceiling above him flooded with light so bright he slammed his eyes shut again. The light made his head throb — a familiar ache in the back of his brain kicking into overdrive. Somebody had pried into his mind, probably forced him unconscious.  
  
“Sleep well, Sam?” asked a voice from across the room. The sound of footsteps came closer as the speaker walked across the room. A pockmarked face looked down at Sam, smiling at him with white teeth and sickly yellow eyes.  
  
“Azazel,” Sam said.  
  
The man brought his hand to his chest. “You’ve heard of me! I’m flattered.” He leaned in closer to Sam and whispered, “Did your Daddy tell you about me?”  
  
Sam pushed back the rage bubbling in his mind and instead asked, “What are you doing?”  
  
He chuckled. “Giving your life new purpose.” Turning his back to Sam he moved across the room to a table. Sam could barely make out what was on it, but it looked like a rack of ampules.  
  
“My life has purpose,” Sam said, trying to see what Azazel was doing. He could see the man’s hands moving across the rack of vials, glass clicking against glass as he pulled out one tube after the other.  
  
“Really?” Azazel turned back to face him, holding a handful of ampules and a rather large syringe. “Because what I see is a young man with truckloads of wasted potential.” He moved closer, drawing the blood-red liquid out of one of the ampules and into the syringe.  
  
Sam felt his heart start to beat faster as Azazel repeated the process with another ampule, and then another.  
  
“You and your brother came here to see what I was doing, right? You wanted to know what nefarious deeds I had planned. Well champ, now you can find out first-hand.” He brought the syringe to Sam’s pinned left arm and pierced his vein with the needle.  
  
Determined not to show fear, Sam bit back a wince and watched as the Azazel pushed the plunger down, forcing the red liquid into his veins.  
  
"I'm a lot like you, really. I just want to make the world a better place." Azazel patted Sam on the cheek and winked at him.  
  
The ache in the back of Sam's mind flared back to life, increasing ten-fold. His veins felt like they were on fire. Unable to hold it in any longer, Sam cried out in pain. The lights above him grew brighter and distantly, he thought he heard the sound of shattering glass.  
  
Then everything went dark.  
  
*******  
  
Despite his protests, they’d convinced,  _forced_  Dean to go get some sleep in one of the bedrooms. They did have a point. He wouldn’t be good to anybody, least of all Sam if he couldn’t see straight.  
  
True to her word, Jo had called for back-up. So had Ellen. Dean knew that with certainty the moment he woke up because of all the voices — familiar voices — he heard out in the main room.  
  
Dean slipped his glasses on anyway, not wanting to risk accidentally exposing somebody who wasn't immune. When he pushed the door into the main bar room open, he couldn't help but smile.  
  
Three other supers had joined them. But not just any three — Rufus, Pamela and Bobby. They were all sitting at one of the round tables, playing poker. Jo and Ellen were nowhere to be seen, probably catching some shut-eye themselves.  
  
Dean and Sam had known Bobby since they were kids. Dad used to leave them with him when he went on missions. Bobby was a telekinetic, a damn strong one. He owned a scrapyard piled high with old heaps of cars, but he never needed a forklift, a crane or any other kind of machine to move the masses of metal. Just his mind.  
  
Pamela was a telepath and a pre-cog. Dean was particularly glad to see her, since she'd worked with Andy before and might know his weaknesses. Plus, their powers were pretty even, from what he'd seen last time.  
  
Dean had only met Bobby's friend Rufus once, but it was a night he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. Rufus had a way with the elements. He could turn a candle flame into a bonfire, or a light rainfall into a flash flood.  
  
"Hey," Dean said quietly, holding up his hand in greeting.  
  
"Hey yourself," Rufus said, glaring at his cards.  
  
"Hi kid," Bobby said, smirking up at Dean. "I'd give you a hug, but we're kinda in the middle of something here."  
  
"These geniuses think they can beat a psychic at poker," Pamela said.  
  
"Bobby can't beat anyone at Poker," Dean said, sitting down on a nearby chair.  
  
"Watch your tone, boy." Bobby said. His eyes were warm, despite his gruff response. "I'm doing just fine."  
  
"Two Jacks," Rufus said, slapping his cards on the table.  
  
"Three Kings," Bobby countered, smirking as Rufus scowled.  
  
"Full house," Pamela said, laying down three aces and two Queens. "Thanks for playing, boys." She chuckled, and swept her arm across the table, collecting the wadded up dollar bills gathered in the middle. "Dean, honey — sit your ass down and bring us up to speed."  
  
*******  
  
After Dean told Bobby, Rufus and Pamela everything he and Sam had learned, which didn’t seem to amount to much, they started to talk strategy.  
  
Of all of them, the only one who had faced Azazel before directly, was Rufus. Dean and Sam only knew about Azazel because of Dad. One of the last images he ever projected at them was Azazel — cruel, twisted expression and yellow eyes glowing like flames. Dean would never forget what he looked like, or how much hate Dad had poured into that image. He was determined to take the monster down, no matter what it took.  
  
“He did something to himself,” Rufus said wrinkling his nose at the bitter coffee he’d brewed himself. “Nobody knows exactly what. If you ask me — he made his own special kind of Hellfire. He’s always stronger, every year. Last time I took him on—” He turned his eyes down at the table for a few seconds, and took a breath. “I lost three people.  _Good_  people. That bastard’s going down. He might be strong, but he bleeds. I’ve seen him bleed. And if he bleeds…”  
  
“We can take him,” Bobby finished, patting his friend on the shoulder. “We’ve just gotta be smart about it.”  
  
Pamela tilted her head to the side and walked over to the smaller table across from them, where Ash’s display was blinking on and off. “What the hell?” she mumbled.  
  
Dean followed her to the computer and stared at the screen.  
  
 _You guys have long -range missiles I don’t know about, or are we gonna get moving sometime this year?_  
  
“We?” Dean asked incredulously.  
  
 _I’m mobile. And I’m hell of a lot smarter than all of you. So take me with you. Or don’t — just don’t blame me when you come back crying._  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. “Any intel you’ve got that could help us?”  
  
 _Oh I don’t know…how about a blueprint of the building Azazel’s holed up in? Or biometric readouts on everybody inside?_  
  
Dean grabbed the laptop and looked over to Pamela.  
  
“I’ll go get Ellen,” she said, heading for the back rooms.  
  
*******  
  
The first thing Sam noticed when he woke up was that he felt different. He couldn't pinpoint exactly how, but something had changed.  
  
His situation, on the other hand, hadn't changed. He was still strapped to the same cold, metal table. The light above him flickered weakly. Most of it had shattered, and big chunks of the glass cover were missing. Looking down, he saw some of the glass debris on his chest. Incredibly, none of it had cut his skin.  
  
He lifted his wrist experimentally, testing the strength of the strap. Then he heard a voice that sent simultaneous waves of relief and panic through him.  
  
Dean's voice.  
  
"Sammy!" Dean called again, and he sounded so close.  
  
Terrified that Dean would draw Azazel's attention, Sam sat up, forgetting how thoroughly he was being restrained. There was a snapping sound, then another, and then the straps that had been locking his head into place fell into Sam's lap.  
  
After a moment of confusion, Sam pulled up hard with his arms and felt the leather straps give as he tore through them both. Too worried about Dean to stop and think about why he'd been able to break through his bonds, Sam unbuckled the cuffs around his ankles, leapt off the cot and ran towards the door.  
  
The door was an ugly shade of blue - painted over so many times, the door itself was thicker because of it. But underneath that, it was just wood. Sam took a step back and delivered a strong quick front-kick to the doorknob.  
  
His foot took out the doorknob and a good chunk of the wood surrounding it, including the piece that held the rest of the locking mechanism. The door swung open, out into the hallway, and Sam found a mildly startled looking Dean staring back at him.  
  
"Sam?" Dean's grin was wide. "You're okay!"  
  
"Azazel did something to me." Sam shook his head, I don't know what — he gave me something."  
  
Dean nodded and swallowed, then he held up his hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. "One. Dean, we—”  
  
"We have to get out of here. Now. Before Azazel comes back." Dean pointed behind him. "Path is clear the way I came in, but we need to move quick." He turned and headed down the hall.  
  
“Wait! Andy showed me where Azazel was holding him. There’s dozens of supers being held prisoner here. We have to help them!”  
  
“Andy showed you?” Dean asked, his expression turning cold.  
  
“Yeah. They’re in a big room full of cages — we have to find it.”  
  
“Oh we’ll find him,” Dean said, cracking his knuckles.  
  
Pushing aside the bad feeling in his gut, the one that kept screaming something was wrong, Sam followed Dean into the darkness.  
  
*******  
  
Ellen took Bobby, Rufus and Pamela in her truck, and Dean drove off alone in the Impala, struggling to figure out what she was trying to tell him. She’d been on edge since he’d gotten in, her wipers moving back and forth erratically — a nervous tic.  
  
After he’d gone about ten miles down the highway he caught a glimpse of long blonde hair in the rearview mirror. Jo lying in the back seat of the Impala.  
  
Her eyes caught his in the mirror and her cheeks flushed. "You were just gonna leave me behind."  
  
Dean said nothing.  
  
"I can help, you know. Just because I don't have my powers yet doesn't mean I'm useless."  
  
Keeping his eyes on the road, Dean kept listening, but stayed quiet.  
  
"She didn't want to let me in at first," Jo said, patting the seat cushion. "But I told her I knew what was at stake, and that I had to help. I'm just as worried about Sam as you both are." She let out a huff, blowing a stray strand of her hair out of her face. "Just because Mom says I'm better off at home, doesn't mean it's true."  
  
“You let her in?” Dean asked the Impala.  
  
The wipers came back up quickly and the car’s engine hummed in admittance.  
  
Dean sighed, and met Jo’s eyes in the mirror. “Look, if I was in your shoes I would’ve done the same thing,” Dean said.  
  
Jo scrambled into the passenger sheet and sat down with a huff.  
  
“But I’ve never been in your shoes because Dad  _wanted_  us to learn before we had our powers. He said we had to be ready. So he trained us to fight with knives and guns and everything else.”  
  
“Dad taught me before he—” Jo swallowed angrily. She’d lost her father, too. “I know my way around a knife, trust me.”  
  
“I’m sure you do. The problem isn’t you — in fact I think you’d probably be a big help.”  
  
Jo’s mouth curved into a smile.  
  
“But your mom can snap me in half like a toothpick, and if she sees you getting out of my car, that’s exactly what she’s going to do.”  
  
The Impala let out a woeful honk.  
  
“Exactly,” Dean said, patting the steering wheel. “She’ll probably take it out on Baby, too.  
  
Jo groaned. “Then I’ll get out of the car before she sees me. Tell her I hitchhiked along or something.  
  
Dean scoffed. “Have you met your mom?”  
  
“Sam’s my friend, too. I can’t just — stay home and not do anything about it,” Jo said. Then she turned on the radio, ending the conversation.  
  
*******  
  
They went through one darkened hallway after another, Dean taking the lead and checking every corner before they turned. Finally, they came into a large open room, dimly lit with pale blue bulbs. The room was lined with large cages on either side.  
  
When he saw what was inside the cages, Sam's breath got stuck in his throat. People, dozens of them. These were the cages Andy had shown him, right before...  
  
"Andy," Dean said from a few feet ahead. He was staring into a cage, and his voice dropped low until it was practically a growl. "You son of a bitch." He stuck his hand through the cage bars and grabbed for Andy, who skittered away, terrified.  
  
"Get away from me," Andy said, his voice shaky.  
  
"Dean!" Sam said, urgently, but as quietly as he could. It was stupid to draw attention to themselves. He moved to his brother's side and pushed his arm down and away from the cage. "Leave him alone."  
  
"It's his fault Azazel got you in the first place!" Dean snapped. "He set you up, hacked your brain so they could grab you!"  
  
"No," Sam shook his head. "No, he was trying to warn us."  
  
Andy's eyes were wide and he looked from Dean to Sam. "Sam, you don't know, do you? He's in your head! You have to fight it, or—”  
  
"Like we're gonna listen to anything else you have to say." Dean pulled his hand back out of the cage angrily, and turned back to Sam. “Let’s go."  
  
"We can't just leave him here! We can't leave any of these people here. We have to get them out,” Sam said, as he started to examine Andy's lock. “We can't pick these, we're gonna need..." he leaned forward and pulled the lock as close as it would go to get a better look. The metal frame of the cage door started to bend where he pulled. "Oh."  
  
"Whoa," Andy let out a surprised laugh and looked up at Sam hopefully. He kept eyeing Dean, like he was expecting a punch.  
  
Dean just watched Sam, letting him take the lead.  
  
Grabbing the cage with his bare hands, Sam pulled, surprised by how easily the steel bent.  
  
*******  
  
Dean pulled up behind Ellen’s large blue truck and gave Jo a look.  
  
She shrugged, and climbed out of the passenger seat, walking right towards her mom.  
  
“You do realize that I’m  _psychic_ , right?” Pamela said as Dean passed her. “I told Ellen Jo was hiding in your car the minute we pulled out onto the highway.”  
  
“Yeah, I was wondering about that,” Dean said, watching Jo talk to her mom. “So what’d Ellen say?”  
  
Pamela smirked. “That if Jo gets one scratch on her, you’ll find out what it’s like to have your own car shoved down your throat.”  
  
The Impala started rolling backwards slowly, until she was hidden from view completely behind the blue truck. Dean and Pamela walked over to the others.  
  
Bobby was holding Ash, pointing at the screen. “Our best bet is gonna be going in through this side door. It’s clear right up until this room, here.”  
  
“That’s a lot of people,” Ellen said. “Guards?”  
  
 _Prisoners, that’s probably where he’s got Sam._  Ash wrote underneath the map.  _And look out for these two._  Two of the moving dots representing people lit up red.  _Based on their heat signatures, one of them is Azazel and whoever he’s got with him is just as strong as he is._  
  
“Damn, man.” Rufus raised his eyebrows. “One was plenty.”  
  
 _The guards are patrolling back here._  Ash showed them the far side of the building.  _But they’ll head back this way soon enough. You need to move now._  
  
“I’ll go in first,” Ellen said. “Jo, stay right behind me, and so help me if you don’t, I’ll—”  
  
“Mom,” Jo put her hand on her mother’s arm. “I’ll stay behind you, don’t worry.”  
  
Dean jumped in, “Bobby, take the rear — you can clear out anybody that tries to surprise us. And Rufus—”  
  
“I’ll be the fire-power,” Rufus said, smiling as he pulled a small lighter out of his pocket.  
  
*******  
  
Azazel must have done something awful to the supers he had trapped, Sam thought to himself. He’d opened all the cages, but the only one who’d climbed out was Andy. The rest stayed where they were, or pushed themselves further back. He didn’t recognize any of the others, but they were all victims, as far as he was concerned. The last cage he’d opened held a small girl, with dark-brown hair and wide eyes. “What’s your name?” he asked, crouching down so he could look her in the eyes.  
  
“Ava,” she said quietly.  
  
“Ava, I’m Sam. My brother and I are gonna get out of here, okay?” He held his hand out to her.  
  
“Your brother?” she said, eyes flicking to Dean. “He’s your brother?”  
  
“Yeah, my brother Dean.”  
  
“Dean?” She shook her head, and her voice quavered. “That’s not Dean.”  
  
Confused, Sam looked back up at his brother. “Of course it is.”  
  
Dean shrugged. “He must have done something to them. Messed with their heads.”  
  
Sam nodded, pulling his hand back. “We’re gonna make sure the way out is clear. Come with us. Please.”  
  
*******  
  
Despite Ash's protests — increasing font sizes, bold, underlined, and blinking — Bobby put the laptop back in Ellen’s truck. They were all too worried about it getting damaged to even consider bringing it along.  
  
Dean left his glasses on, not wanting to risk exposing the people Azazel had captured by accident. Most supers he’d met were immune to his eyes. Most, but not all — and they didn’t even know if that’s what all of Azazel’s abductees were. They just knew he had Sam. Dean’s fist clenched and he fought down his rage. If he was going to help Sam, he had to stay calm.  
  
They slipped silently into the side door, single-file, with Ellen in the front. They walked for minutes without hearing a sound, but then they came to heavy metal green door and Dean stopped dead in his tracks, bringing his hand to his temple. Bobby and Rufus stopped behind him.  
  
“You hear something?” Bobby asked.  
  
Dean shook his head. The aches in his head got stronger, turned into a lance of pain and then he saw something — a second image super-imposed over the world around him. It was Sam, standing in front of a whole row of large cages — each of them with somebody inside.  
  
Ellen turned back to them and cocked her head to the side. “There’s voices in there. Whispers. The prisoners, maybe?”  
  
“It’s Sam — he was in there, I think.” Dean winced as the pain ratcheted up a level and another image flooded his mind. Sam was in a large, brightly light room — empty except for a metal table in the center. There was somebody else standing next to Sam. Someone with yellow eyes. “Azazel’s with him.”  
  
“You having a vision or somethin’?” Rufus asked. “Somebody sending you a message?”  
  
“Yeah — Andy maybe? I’m not sure. Whoever it is, they’re with Sam.” Dean blinked as the vision faded  
  
“Can you see where they are?” Pamela asked. “I haven’t tried reaching out to anybody, didn’t want to get one of Azazel’s flunkies by mistake, but if you know it’s Andy, I could try calling back.”  
  
“Whoever it is, Azazel’s right there with him. If he picks up on you, we’re toast.” Dean shook his head, and struggled to remember the blueprints of the building. “The room they’re in is big — high ceilings. Looked almost like loading doors in the back.”  
  
“That means we need go this way,” Ellen said pointing straight ahead. “Take the right at the end — that should lead us straight to your room.”  
  
“Any idea on how we’re gonna take Azazel down?” Jo asked. “We’re just gonna head in there and what — blast him with everything we’ve got?”  
  
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Dean said, forcing a smile. “We’ve got one advantage right now — he doesn’t know we’re here.”  
  
“Well, let’s keep it that way then,” Bobby said and looked towards Ellen. “We ready?”  
  
Ellen turned, and they all started to head down the hall. Just as they rounded the corner, Pamela said, “Wait — wait!”  
  
But it was too late. There were three sets of black eyes glaring at them. Two big guys, and a woman holding a machete. Dean recognized all three of them — they’d been there when Sam had been taken. He felt a low growl start in his throat.  
  
“Well crap,” Rufus muttered.  
  
Without any further hesitation, Ellen ran forward. She tackled the biggest of the three to the floor, and slammed her fist into his jaw. She was about to deliver another blow when the other black-eyed man pulled her up off his fallen companion and threw her into the wall.  
  
Dean held his hand up to his face, blocking the shower of plaster in the air as Ellen collided with the wall, leaving it seriously dented. She growled and grabbed her attacker, slamming him against the same, now uneven part of wall. They grappled for few minutes, until finally Ellen got the upper-hand and delivered a side-kick right into the man’s chest, sending him  _through_  the wall.  
  
Jo and Rufus followed Ellen through the hole in the wall, and Bobby pinned the other two attackers in mid-air.  
  
“We should find out what they know,” Bobby said, turning to Pamela. “Think you can hack ‘em?”  
  
She shook her head, frowning. “Hellfire messes with my mojo. I can’t get anything other than static off of them — that’s why I didn’t feel ‘em coming until it was too late. She nodded her head towards the hole in the wall. “Might be able to find something out from Azazel’s menagerie, though.”  
  
“Go, help them,” Dean said, walking closer to Pamela. “I’ll get what we need from these two.”  
  
Pamela blew him a kiss, and stepped through the broken wall.  
  
“You sure  _your_  mojo works on them?” Bobby asked Dean.  
  
“Only one way to find out,” Dean said, pulling off his glasses. He folded them, and slipped them into his coat pocket. Then he looked up at the black-eyed pair. They were both staring at him, fixated on the power swirling in his eyes. Looked like they weren’t immune. Good to know. “Hey there,” he said focusing on the man on the right. “Want to tell me what Azazel’s up to?”  
  
The man nodded and answered quickly, his words spilling out over each other as he rushed to comply. “He wants to make us better. Building an army. Uses this new stuff to make us stronger, but it doesn’t work on everybody.”  
  
“What happens when it doesn’t work?” Dean kept his eyes locked on his target, the addictive effect of his power flooding the man's system. His power was effective as hell, but dangerous. One look and he could get anyone's  _complete_  attention. Nobody but him knew exactly how terrifying that could be. After a few seconds, his targets would lose all of their other ambitions — the only thing they wanted was to keep looking at his eyes. A few seconds more and the need became physical.  
  
“You overload. You die,” The man started sweating, his pulse speeding up. “Want me to take you to him?”  
  
“In a minute,” Dean said. “First, tell me how to stop him.”  
  
“Can’t stop him,” said the woman hanging a few feet to the left. “Can’t be stopped.”  
  
The man cut her off. “He keeps getting stronger. Uses the stuff himself. Says he needs more like him. We’re not strong enough — burn out too quickly.”  
  
“That’s not really the answer I’m looking for,” Dean said, sighing.  
  
“I’m sorry,” said the black-eyed man, his eyes widening in panic. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how — I can’t help you.” He grunted in pain, and his skin started to get blotchy as his pulse got even faster. The panic was setting in. “Please, I’m sorry.”  
  
Despite years of practice with his gift, Dean had never been able to shake the guilt that came with it. Once people got to this point, there was nothing he could do to stop the downward slide. He’d tried, he’d tried so damn hard, so many times, but they always ended the same way. Especially demons. Something about the Hellfire sped up the process and it always,  _always_  ended badly. He held his hand up to the side of his face, blocking the man’s view of his eye, and turned his attention to the woman.  
  
The man yelled, and then started crying, and muttering “No, no, no…” over and over as he struggled against Bobby’s hold, desperate to get another look at Dean’s eyes. Within a matter of seconds, his heart would give out. “How about you? Do you know how to stop him?” Dean asked the pinned woman.  
  
A trickle of sweat ran down her brow, as her whole being focused on answering Dean’s question. “I saw him bleed once,” she said, a flicker of hope in her features. “When he was bringing in that really strong super, Jake. He stabbed Azazel with a crowbar. The pointy-end, you know?”  
  
Dean nodded. “Good, and how long did it take him to heal?”  
  
She smiled at the praise, and then hurried to answer. “He wouldn’t stop bleeding. It wasn’t natural — even for a wound that size, he just started gushing blood. Didn’t stop until he injected himself.”  
  
“With what?” Dean asked.  
  
Next to him, Bobby let the black-eyed man gently down to the ground as the withdrawal from Dean’s gaze pulled his nervous system into overdrive.  
  
“I don’t know.” The woman’s eyes started tearing up, as the feeling of failure started to kick in. “Something new — it looks like blood. I think he’s been getting it from the zoo.”  
  
“The zoo?”  
  
She pointed towards the broken wall. “The others he collected. He wants what they have.”  
  
“Where is he?” Dean asked, taking a step closer to her.  
  
She reached her hand out towards him, trying to bring him closer, but he was just out of reach. Frustrated she dropped her arm back down, a tear sliding down her cheek. “With Sam. His new golden-boy.”  
  
“What did he do to Sam?” Dean said, his voice more like a snarl.  
  
“Gave him the good stuff. Sam’s like him — like Azazel. He hasn’t burned out yet. I think he’s what Azazel was looking for.” She reached her arm out again, and started laughing hysterically when her fingers brushed the air in front of Dean’s face. “Please, it hurts.”  
  
Dean blinked slowly, deliberately and heard her gasp in pain as she was cut off from his gaze. “I know. Tell me where Azazel is, right now.”  
  
“Loading dock. Bringing in—” she struggled against her body, forcing the answer out despite the pain. “— the new delivery.”  
  
Dean tried his best to ignore the thump as the black-eyed woman fell to the ground, dead. Even if part of him felt like they deserved it since they’d teamed up with Azazel and taken his brother, there was another part of him that still felt like a monster. He slipped his glasses back on, and followed Bobby through the broken wall.  
  
*******  
  
Disappointed as he was that none of the other captives had followed them so far except for Andy, Sam was still relieved to have gotten so far without incident. The room they’d just entered was huge, but empty. There were two large garage-type doors and a smaller regular door in the corner. The loading dock was just outside.  
  
“Be careful, Sam,” Dean said, his voice quiet.  
  
Andy still seemed to flinch every time Dean spoke. Sam couldn’t understand why.  
  
“You hear something?” Sam asked Dean  
  
“Truck just pulled up, outside,” Dean said, nodding. “We should make a break for it, now.”  
  
They started to jog towards the door in the back, but before they’d gotten more than ten feet, one of the large garage doors started to slide open.  
  
“Crap,” Sam said, and froze where he stood.  
  
Dean turned back to him, with an odd look on his face. He looked almost…expectant.  
  
"Uh guys...what's the plan exactly?" Andy asked.  
  
"Well, if I'm right about what's in the truck, then we have to liberate the cargo, don't we, Sam?" Dean asked, smirking.  
  
The cool air from outside whipped through the opening garage door, and Sam had to blink to keep his eyes open. There were two black-eyed men standing just outside of the door.  
  
Another two were inside the truck, each holding a cage with a frightened looking person inside. The truck had at least a dozen more cages inside.  
  
The two men closest to the door both turned to Dean at the same time, then they shifted their gazes to Sam.  
  
Adrenaline pumped through his veins as Sam readied himself for a fight. At least he knew he had enough physical strength to go against the Hellfire-users.  
  
The larger of the two men ran at Sam first. Sam was expecting to be tackled, or punched. What he wasn't expecting was for flames to come pouring out of the man's open mouth.  
  
Sam dodged, side-stepping the first burst of fire. He tried to recover from his initial shock, but before he could think of a good counter, another blast of flame came streaming right towards his face.  
  
The heat was overwhelming, and Sam slammed his eyes shut, and brought his arms up as if that would help.  
  
Then he heard his opponent cough and curse under his breath. The air smelled like smoke.  
  
In surprised relief, Sam opened his eyes. His skin hadn't been burned off, his fair hadn't even been singed. He was totally fine. He reached out and grabbed the black-eyed man by the wrists and kneed him in the ribs, hard.  
  
There was a muffled snapping noise when Sam's knee hit, and the man fell to the ground, curled in on himself.  
  
Sam turned over his shoulder and saw another black-eyed stranger facing him — this one was bouncing a small ball of fire in his hand. He gave Sam a smile and a mock salute.  
  
Confused, Sam wondered if they were turning on each other. And even more curiously, why had that one helped him. Dean turned on the newcomer angrily and ran towards him. Then he stopped in his tracks when he saw five others enter the room. They spread out, forming a rough half-circle across the other side of the room.  
  
They were surrounded. Sam was already close to panic, when the other man from the loading dock lunged at him, tackling him from behind. Sam grappled with him for a minute, his adrenaline rising. “Get off of me!” he snapped. There was a sizzling sound, and the black-eyed man attacking him suddenly stiffened, let go, and dropped to the floor like a stone.  
  
Sam stared at him, watching the tiny electrical currents dance along the man's skin. And his own fingers.  
  
"Huh,"  
  
"Nicely done, Sammy," Dean yelled over his shoulder. “Want to get off your ass and help me over here?”  
  
Sam ran to Dean’s side and looked at their opponents. Three women, three men — including the one that had helped him. All of them with black eyes.  
  
“Sammy!” yelled the black-eyed man furthest on the left, beckoning him over like he knew him. “Come on! We’ve got you covered.”  
  
From next to him, Dean laughed, but something about it sounded off. “Covered, huh?”  
  
“How come they know my name?” Sam asked aloud. Then he turned to Dean, his stomach knotting with dread. “And why do you still have your glasses on?"  
  
“Didn’t want to spoil the mood.” Dean shrugged. Then he pulled his glasses off slowly, and Sam’s voice got caught in his throat.  
  
He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move and all he could see was the yellow of Dean’s eyes.  
  
*******  
  
All Dean could do was watch, in fascinated horror, as Azazel brought his fingers up to his temple and then down again. Sam stared at him, mesmerized.  
  
Sam was in a trance — that was the only explanation. He hadn’t recognized Rufus, he hadn’t recognized any of them. He hadn’t recognized his own brother. “Come on, Sammy,” Dean repeated, under his breath. “Snap out of it.”  
  
“Want me to see if I can get through?” Pamela asked him. Next to her, Ellen cracked her knuckles and took a step forward, positioning herself between Jo and everyone else in the room.  
  
“You think you can kick Azazel out?” Bobby asked incredulously. “I mean, you’re good, but—”  
  
Pamela knocked Bobby on the arm. “Quit worrying about me you old coot.” She moved to stand next to Dean and said, “I’ll try to get through to Sam. Meanwhile, you might want to start worrying about them.” She pointed to the open garage door, where Azazel’s three other lackeys were coming in from the truck. They abandoned their cargo, more interested in the scuffle inside, and flocked to Azazel’s side, as Sam stayed transfixed.  
  
Rufus bounced the ball of fire in his hand one more time and then flung it at the black-eyed man closest to him.  
  
Ellen ran to intercept the other two, clotheslining one in a way that would have been hilarious if they hadn't all been so busy trying to survive. Bobby grabbed the other demon with his mind and slammed him up higher and higher until he was dangling from the ceiling.  
  
For a moment, Dean considered taking on Azazel himself, and at that exact second, the yellow-eyed villain turned to look at him.  
  
 _Try me, son. Go ahead._  
  
The words echoed around in Dean's head loudly, and he struggled to keep focus. To his right, he saw Pamela's forehead tighten with pain as she focused on Sam.  
  
*******  
For a few minutes, Sam couldn't see anything but yellow. There was a voice so deep it made his bones hum, saying  _"Trust me. Let me help you. You're strong, Sam. So much stronger than you know."_  
  
Sam tried to fight against the voice, tried to keep afloat, but the voice pulled him under, yellow fading into a muted haze. He couldn't see or hear the world clearly. Everything was filtered — the voices and faces nearby alien in their familiarity. The sense of alarm and desperation he'd felt moments ago fell away into nothingness.  
  
And then a new voice whispered into his head. He knew her voice, knew her, but he couldn't remember. Her identity slipped through his fingers like sand.  
  
 _"Sam, snap out if it!"_  said the voice.  _"Come on, your brother's about to lose his cool over here."_  
  
"My brother..." Sam repeated. Then he forced his eyes to focus on the face across from him. Dean's face — but not. It shifted and rippled, like an old TV with wonky reception and then dissolved into someone else entirely. "You're not my brother," Sam said as he understood what had happened. "You never were."  
  
Azazel smirked at him.  _"But I could be. Stay with me, Sam. I can give you so much more."_  
  
Images flooded Sam's mind as Azazel's voice drowned out everything else. Huge, ten-gallon jugs filled with the same elixir Azazel had given him, the feel of the red liquid running into his veins — not painful at all, but warm, so wonderfully warm. Somewhere far, far away, Sam thought he heard somebody scream his name.  
  
 _"You won't have to waste your time hunting down petty little crooks. No."_  Azazel's voice thrummed through Sam's mind, speaking the absolute truth.  _"You'll do what you want, when you want and no one will be able to stop you."_  Azazel smiled.  _“Together, we can change the world."_  
  
"You made me stronger," Sam said, only one question left in his mind. "Why?"  
  
"Because I need a general. I need someone I can trust. Someone who can keep the others in line. You can do that, for me can't you?"  
  
Sam nodded.  
  
*******  
  
"Let me go!" Dean screamed, pulling against Bobby's hold. He pulled his arm free and Rufus grabbed it helping Bobby hold him back. Azazel was doing something to Sam, messing with his mind.  
  
“Dean, no! He’ll kill you. We have to be smart about this. Take him down as a team,” Bobby huffed and looked over to Pamela. “You get anywhere?”  
  
Pamela’s brow scrunched together. “I can’t get through, there’s a block like—” Suddenly a slow grin spread across her face as from across the room, Andy gave her a nod and turned to look at Sam. “Yeah, we got it. No worries.”  
  
Dean watched as Sam stumbled a few steps back his wide-eyed gaze moving from Azazel to Pamela. Azazel had taken another step towards Sam, hand outstretched. Whatever the yellow-eyed bastard was doing, it was hurting Sam — his brother groaned and fell to his knees, clearly in pain.  
  
“You really think I didn’t take some precautions before giving you that upgrade?” Azazel snarled down at Sam. “What do you think the base is for the RNA shot I gave you?”  
  
Finally, Bobby’s hold slipped and Dean broke free, running towards Sam.  
  
“Me,” Azazel finished. “My blood. In yours.” He looked up at Dean then and held his hand out, sending Dean flying into the air.  
  
With a  _whoof_  of air, Ellen caught him and set him back down on the ground, gently. “Ready for round 2?” she asked. They ran back to Sam together as Rufus turned to Bobby and asked, “Is it just me, or did you just hear thunder outside?”  
  
Bobby laughed and flicked a burst of energy at Azazel, trying to knock him over.  
  
The yellow-eyed man just glared at him, annoyed, his focus shifting back to Sam a moment later. “Kill them,” he said. “They’re the enemy. Not me.”  
  
Sam stood, and turned to look at Bobby and Rufus, his eyes glazed and unfocused. His face distorted in a grimace and he turned his head to Pamela, sending her hurtling out the loading dock door. Andy ran, but not fast enough. Sam sent him sailing into the far wall. Then he turned to Rufus and Bobby.  
  
“Sorry, man,” Rufus muttered as the sky outside lit up with lightning. He held out his hand and refocused the bolt inside, bringing it to Sam’s feet.  
  
Sam didn’t seem to notice.  
  
Ellen slammed her fist into Azazel’s back and he went down hard.  
  
Dean rushed to Sam’s side, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Sammy, it’s me! It’s Dean!”  
  
Sam stared at him, like he was trying to focus but couldn’t.  
  
With shaking hands, Dean pulled off his glasses. Sam was normally immune to his power, but with what Azazel had done to him, there was no knowing what would happen. He didn’t see many other options though.  
  
The second Dean’s glasses were off, Sam’s eyes locked on Dean’s. He stared, unmoving and stopped breathing.  
  
Dean focused on his gift actively for the first time in years, keeping Sam's eyes on his. He could feel Azazel's touch, whatever he'd done to Sam, like a thick fog in his brother's mind.  
  
The power in Sam roiled against Dean's, scrambling to defend itself, but slowly Dean started to burn through it, just like everything else.  
  
Behind them, Ellen started screaming. Flicking a glance to her, Dean saw Azazel’s hand pressed to Ellen’s forehead. Rufus, Bobby and Jo were all running towards her.  
  
“It’s me. Try to think. That bastard doesn’t belong in your head. Whatever he did to you, we’ll fix it, okay?” Dean grabbed Sam tighter by the shoulder, and waited for some flicker of recognition. "Remember who you are, Sam. You're my brother."  
  
Sam's eyes started to clear, and he blinked at Dean. Then he let out a cry of pain and doubled over.  
  
Behind him, Dean heard a twin scream. Azazel’s scream. He looked over his shoulder and saw Jo standing over the yellow-eyed man. She was holding a small knife, dripping blood. Ellen was on the floor, panting in exhaustion, and Azazel was lying on his side, an enormous pool of blood spilling out of the wound in his back.  
  
Dean kept Sam from toppling over.  
  
With another groan of pain, Sam looked up at Dean’s eyes again and said, “Dean?”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, Sammy, it’s me.” Dean said and fell to his knees, hugging his brother in relief. “It’s me.”  
  
*******  
  
The next hour was strangely quiet. Sam followed Dean silently, helping him free the rest of the captives from the truck, and checking on their allies.  
  
Ellen and Rufus went to a nearby patch of forest and got wood to build a pyre. They laid Azazel's corpse on top and Rufus set it alight, feeding the flames from one lit matchbook. They stood — all of them, next to the freed captives — watching as Azazel's body turned to ashes and drifted away into the night sky. Sam had felt Azazel's last bit of control over him disappear the moment he died, but even so he felt better knowing he was completely gone.  
  
He stayed there with Dean until the very end, making sure there was nothing left, then headed back to join the others.  
  
"Dad would be proud," Dean said.  
  
Sam nodded, but wondered how true that was. They'd taken care of Azazel, but not before Azazel had gotten to Sam. Even though the yellow-eyed monster was gone, whatever power he'd given Sam had changed him, for good. The powers he hadn't been able to control before, were all second nature to him now — incredible strength, telekinesis and his other psychic abilities all fully realized. His mind felt open and aware, the thoughts and feelings of those around him always within reach.  
  
They found the others gathered together. Bobby, Ellen, Jo and Rufus were talking to the prisoners, trying to coordinate how to get them all back home. They had Ellen's truck, the Impala and one previously cage-filled freight truck, but even so it would take a while to get them all back to where they belonged.  
  
Pamela and Andy were sitting on the ground outside, by the Impala, having a silent conversation, as Dean and Sam walked over to them.  
  
Sam looked down at her sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I—” He crouched down to look her in the eye. “You okay?”  
  
Pamela’s mouth quirked. “I still feel a little unconscious. You should probably give me CPR, just in case.” She looked up and winked at Dean. “Both of you, to be sure.”  
  
“For the record, I’m fine,” Andy said holding up his hands. He stood up and slipped into the back seat of the Impala.  
  
Pamela laughed and took Sam's offered hand, pulling herself up to standing. "You boys did good in there."  
  
She wasn't lying, not exactly, but there was fear behind her smile and Sam felt it settle in his stomach uneasily alongside the rest of his guilt.  
  
 _I'm not afraid of you, get that straight._  Her smile turned sad.  _I'm afraid for you. Things just got a lot more complicated._  "You did real good." She patted Sam on the arm, and walked over to the other side of the Impala, sliding in next to Andy.  
  
Dean looked at him. "And how about you. You okay?"  
  
For a minute, Sam didn't know how to answer. He had a vision then, painless and crystal clear: he was fighting, Dean by his side, against a dozen yellow-eyed fiends…and he wasn't the least bit afraid. No matter what happened, they'd have each other, and together they were unstoppable.  
  
"Sammy?"  
  
He nodded and said, "Yeah, I am." He looked back to the remnants of the pyre, took a deep breath, turned back to Dean and smiled. "Come on, we've got work to do."  
  
  
  



End file.
